The Ghost of Job
by Eduard Tubin
Summary: Azula finds that she may have had an even odder past than she had ever believed. Number Two brings her 'doctor' to the Village to try and pry apart the very essence of her fragile mind.


**Azula: The Prisoner**

**The Ghost of Job – Part I**

"Magnificent." Number Two spoke in unashamed admiration.

"Number 9?" Number 14 had not served the Village long as Number Two's assistant and spoke his mind from time to time and lacked the obsequious nature required by his position. He had a tall athletic build, a neat head of hair parted on the side and blue eyes. He looked like the young employee in the firm, a fresh college graduate with at times too much enthusiasm. "She has caused us many problems and yet we indulger her."

"She has remained faithful to herself." Number Two ignored Number 14's breech of the rules and paced the room under the green dome as he watched the video feed from Number Nine's apartment. "Job remained faithful to God in spite of his trials and he lived a prosperous life after those trials."

"She paces about the place like a tiger caught in a trap." Number 14 walked up to the large video screen and took a closer look. He had studied Number 9's file; knew all about her origin but could not deny her deep amber eyes and dark almost black fine hair gave her a certain beauty.

"She never gives in." Number Two leaned over and hit a green button on his circular control console. The butler entered with a serving cart with silver platters on the top. "She will remain the Princess of the Fire Nation and she will resist. She has no idea she is one of a kind.

"Please take a seat and join me for breakfast." Number Two pressed a red button and a black leather covered chair on a silver base rose out of the floor. He motioned for Number 14 to take the seat and Number 14 politely bowed and took his place. "Help yourself to toast and tea."

"We have had failures with Number 9." Number 14 began slowly. "If we had more liberty, perhaps we could make her see our point of view?"

"Perhaps." Number Two took the metal cover off a plate of steaming flapjacks and placed it to one side. "Have you heard of the concept of a _ghost _as it refers to the emergent properties of artificial intelligence?"

Number 14 poured a cup of tea for himself and Number Two. "I will admit that computers lie outside of my purview as you well know."

"I don't know much myself. I have to defer to the Village experts on the subject, " Number Two placed two flapjacks on his plate. "It refers to the possibility of complex computer systems of having the ability to have qualities of the human mind. Number 42 has done much of the work into this area of research and we have him here in the Village. Our superiors have a great interest in his work on imparting a ghost to a machine."

"And how does Number 9 fit into this?" Number 14 buttered his toast carefully.

Number Two show no emotion as he looked at Number 9, "Number 42 built Number 9 five years ago." Number Two carefully held his tea. "A motion picture concern in Japan wished to built a range of cybernetic devices – artificial actors that could act their lines and perform on cue - smart puppets in essence. Number 42 led the research department of Asai Biomechanical and his team developed the technology."

Number 14 had to steady his hand as the shock horror of what he had heard ran through his mind. "Yet Number 9 doesn't act like a _smart puppet_ built to follow a scripted already written."

"She began to display emergent qualities." Number Two pressed a button on the console and the image projected on the large overhead screen changed to a diagram of a titanium covered brain case. "She thought and acted intelligently and by watching the human workers in the studio; she learned to behave like a human."

Number 14 wore a shocked look on his face as he examined the black and white diagram.

"You are, of course, absolutely sworn to silence on this matter." Number Two gave Number 14 a hard gaze. He had no need to say anything more: Number 14 knew the fate of traitors.

* * *

Azula had noticed various pieces of kitsch in her flat sitting on shelves that had no real connection with her interests or her personality. She had a set of wooden oak bookends carved in the form of horses heads, a bust of Wellington and a delicate porcelain doll in a pink taffeta ball gown. She had never taken an interest in dolls and that piece made very little sense to her but as with the Village; it served some kind of symbolic or mnemonic function. She picked up the doll and moved it into a less visually offensive part of her living room. The doll had piercing blue eyes that disturbed Azula since the always appeared to follow her around the room.

The motor on her door buzzed as the door opened and four thugs rushed her. "You have missed your appointment with the good Number 42." The tallest, most muscular man said in a scolding voice. He had the build of a rugby player, deep chocolate skin, a menacing close shaved beard and a head shaved bald. He rushed Number 9 with such force and speed she could neither dodge nor contain the gasp of pain as he pinned her to the floor.

"How can I miss an appointment I never booked with a man I have never met!" Number 9 tried to free herself but the four men had her pinned as Number Two strolled into the living room. "At seven in the morning! Before the hospital even opens to the public!"

"Please Number 33." Number Two stood over Number 9. "We must be careful not to damage her."

Number 9 tried to kick out in rage, "the _New_ Number Two?" Number 9 hissed and continued to squirm as Number Two looked down on her. He had white hair and the round face of someone from Japan or Korea but he stood tall, with piercing blue eyes and spoke with a deep resonating voice that seemed to command respect and induce fear in Number 9's soul. He had a perfect London accent and impeccable clothing. He tapped her forehead with the tip of his umbrella.

"Have you heard the story of Job?" Number Two kept the cold metal end of his umbrella pressed to Number 9's forehead.

Number 9 tried to move her head but he pressed her head firmly to the carpeted floor. "Of course not! I have not heard of a good many things and no one here is in a hurry to tell me!"

"God punished Job to test his faith." Number Two lifted the umbrella and signaled the four men to carry Number 9 to a waiting ambulance.

"I do not believe in God." Number 9 squirmed as the four men lead by the tall man seated her in the back of the open cab of the ambulance and strapped her down into the seat. The tall man pressed a small insulin needle against her shoulder and she began see the sharp outlines of the trees and buildings slowly lose their detail and color.

Number Two sat next to Number 14 who waited for his signal to drive. "That capacity does not exist in your mind but then again –_ it could_."

* * *

"I had not expected to see you again." Number 42 leaned over Number 9 she lay half reclined on a hospital bed. He fussed with wires that ran from Number 9's head, across the light green linens on the hospital bed and into a bank of machines which had some function Azula could not understand. If Number Two looked like the impeccably neat Asian businessman, Number 42 looked like the stereotypical Japanese doctor – white beard, balding head with a fit, trim body and Number 9 saw a keen intellect behind his brown eyes. He wore the black and royal blue uniform the Village assigned to health care professionals and he had a stethoscope hung around his neck. Unlike Number 9 and even Number Two he wore no badge on his vest.

"You have a name." Number 9 felt the black Kevlar restraints held her fast against the hospital mattress.

"Never mind that." Number 42 cranked the hospital bed so Number 9 could sit up. "I have a job to perform for the Village. He spoke calmly and with a voice that had resolve and finality. "I know you better than you know yourself and so I have come to serve as your doctor."

"A number of people have made similar claims." Number 9 scoffed. "A number of people have served as my doctor – none remain with us."

Number 42 put his stethoscope down on the small metal table next to the bed, "Indeed." He didn't sound at all concerned. "Why did you go mad after your father left you to rule the Fire Nation?" Number 42 turned away from Number 9, checked a cable and worked away on a laptop computer with a large screen that cast a glow over his shoulder. He asked calmly and in a matter of fact manner as he worked away and as the bank of equipment began to slowly come up.

Without a word, Number 42 left the room and Azula could see the computer screen of the laptop and the lines of computer code scrolling in a window on the display.

"She cannot see or hear us now." Number 42 opened to door to allow Number two to enter the room. "She believes she remains alone in this room because I have implanted a program that will remove our images from the stream of sensory data."

Number Two leaned over Number 9 and fought the urge to snap his fingers in her left ear. "Utterly Amazing! Her amber eyes look so intelligent and yet all that intelligence comes out of a network of computer processors inside the skull of a machine designed to play a role on a Japanese television fantasy."

"That machine has outsmarted you." Number 42 replied calmly. "Those amber eyes consist of high quality digital camera parts but the machine using them has become intelligent."

"It went mad." Number Two found the need to remind Number 42, "and you designed _it_! Even you don't know why – but now you have _our_ facilities."

Number 42 fussed over his machinery but the data and diagrams on the LCD screens meant nothing to Number Two. "You need a mind to go mad and therein lies the great mystery. How many insane worms or cucumbers have you encountered? I have begun testing her hardware and software but I doubt if I will find anything. She went mad because she had a mind that believed the role she played on the television series was _real_. Imagine the problems we would face in this place if our computers developed a mind and a moral conscience? They grow more complex as the demands we place on them increase. Twenty years ago, our computers amounted to little more than crude adding machines but now?"

"I cannot tell our superiors such a thing." Number Two stood over Azula and ran his hand along one of the wires. "They have brought you here to work with us but if you fail, you will fall with all of us."

"I have not forgotten that." Number 42 sighed. "I have a family you know."

"How can it not know what it is?" Number Two could see Number 9 breathe. "She must remain a computer at some level."

Number 42 held a dark blue mechanical pencil in his hand and tapped his forehead then placed it on the table next to his stethoscope. "You can hardly dissect yourself. You accept the way you sense the world as normal. Color blind people accept their inability to tell ripe apples from green ones as normal until they have an eye exam or interact with others that have normal vision. She has no reason to question the flow of her experience."

"I know, our minders have instructed me to keep her nature hidden from her but to try to find some means of exploiting it." Number Two spoke quietly. "If it knew then it might find a means to interact any computer in any part of the world. She could hack any network and in the hands of our enemies would prove invaluable."

"Do not call her 'it'." Number 42 handed Number Two a printout that had spewed quietly out of a small laser printer. "That would prove a dead giveaway."

Number Two shot Number 42 a sharp and commanding stare, "I do hope she has not begun to develop a moral conscience – that would make her useless to us!"

Number 42 had a doubtful look on his face and raised an eyebrow as he considered Number Two's question, "I have seen no sign of this – yet."

"You find a way of breaking into that noggin of hers." Number Two tapped the printout impatiently as he swung the door open.

Number 42 came into the room followed by a maid with a tea service. Azula could not recognize the maid but she looked like plain brunette haired woman in her mid twenties and she wore the modestly tailored uniform of a French maid – the Village minders did not wish her to look seductive.

"A good old fashioned tea party?" Number 9 found she could sit up but the wires trailing from her scalp made it hard to turn her head. politely removed them from her scalp, wound them up and placed them on a metal peg sticking out of the blue painted metal rack that led the bulk of the equipment.

"We have questions and so I am here to ask them." Number 42 poured a cup of tea for Number 9.

"I haven't seen you before."

"I do not spend much time in the Village." Number 42 handed the tea to Number 9. "_Du m__uβ__ Am__boβ__oder Hammer sein._"

"What on Earth could that mean?" Number 9 scowled as she accepted the tea.

"An old German saying from an old German author of some note you have never heard about. You must be either hammer or anvil." Number 42 stood over Number 9 and shone a pen light into her eyes. "Who is which? I do not know."

Number 9 saw a sharp vertical highlight above and below the bright white light of the penlight. She saw this whenever she looked at bright lights but paid it no heed since her vision had always proven keen. Number 42 shone the light in both eyes and then turned it off. Azula took a moment as her eyes adjusted the white balance so that the colors she saw like the red and gold highlights of her clothes made sense. The bright daylight from the open window made the red in her Fire Nation uniform appear magenta after her eyes had adapted to the yellow colored light of the penlight. The colors shifted in distinct stages over a few seconds until they looked natural.

"I can tell Number Two that you have no obvious signs of brain disease." Number 42 said authoritatively. Azula noticed that as he spoke, he slipped the palmtop computer he had had in his hand under his robe as if hiding something.

"How comforting." Number 9 glared as she sipped her tea gently from the cup. "The anvil always succeeds in breaking the hammer."

"I am finished. Go home and rest." Number 42 offered his hand to help her stand.

* * *

Number 9 left the Village Hospital with a feeling of unease. She had a headache but her thinking had cleared – Village drugs, like most of the numbered inmates, left a bit of a hangover. _For all the advanced technology in this place_, Azula thought, no one has _developed a tranquilizer that didn't make one feel foul_. Number 42 had no name, only a number; but he merited great respect from the arrogant Number Two. Azula hated inconsistency but accepted the answers would not be forthcoming. She walked back to her flat and the front door opened as she approached. She walked in, the door closed with a hum and she lay on the couch.

"You speak German?" Number Two4 sat opposite Number 9 at the white cast iron cafe table. She ate a full serving of eggs and bacon and had taken an orange for desert.

Number 9 sipped on some coffee. "_Du m__uβ__ Am__boβ__ oder Hammer sein_ is all the German I know because it seems to be a popular saying – in this place." A day had passed and the next morning Number 9 found herself unable to digest the events of the prior day. She felt no ill effects, had slept well and could recall no odd dreams which seemed out of the ordinary since most Village procedures left her out of sorts and most medical people wanted to somehow muck about in her dreams.

"Du muβ Amboβ oder Hammer sein." Number 24 said to Number 9. "I heard it somewhere before - I don't know where. Perhaps Goethe?"

"Very well." Azula said quietly. "Is it a code for something? Something they have done to me? To my mind?"

"I have no idea." Number 24 drew a blank. "They take people to the Hospital from time to time. They have their reasons."

"You must be either hammer or anvil?" Number 9 asked patiently as she picked apart an orange.

"I can't help you." Number 24 sat uncomfortably in her seat. She appeared to Number 9 as if she had grown uncomfortable with the conversation – odd for the casual little blind girl. "As a blind girl I don't study literature and in the Village school we study the subjects they place before us."

"You know Goethe?" Number 9 stared at the man with the portly belly standing with his hands on the empty patio chair between Number 24 and herself. He had rudely interrupted the conversation. Azula disliked him at a glance as he stood with his windburned cheeks, stroked his beard and spoke. "You must be either hammer or anvil?"

"Goethe?" Number 9 asked carefully. The man had a badge with the number 98 on it but he looked like a striking imitation of her uncle she remembered from the Fire Nation. He wore the same red formal uniform she did and he even had the same dark amber eyes.

"You can't avoid making a choice and even inaction is a choice." The man spoke in a harsh guttural accent. "You will be either hammer and break, or anvil and withstand the onslaught."

"Were you a hammer or anvil?" Number 9 turned her head and studied the strange man.

"In the War, I was anvil." The man answered Number 9 slowly. Number 24 recognized his thick accent as a German one. "In this place we all break: we are all hammer."

"And _who _is the anvil?"

"God." Number 98 leaned on the chair as if using it as a walker. "In the story of Job, God tested his faith by tormenting him, killing his family and destroying his fortunes in this world. God was Anvil and Job, hammer. But Job did not break because he had his faith in God and refused to abandon it. As a good Lutheran I read my Bible everyday."

"I am not Lutheran." Number 9 slowly turned her tea cup by the handle in its saucer. "I do not know what you mean by Lutheran."

"Job did not give up his faith." Number 98 stood up, "yet he was hammer and you are hammer and all of us are hammer. Anvil can always break Hammer but may choose not to do so so as to teach a lesson."

Azula raised her eyebrow and resisted the urge to role her eyes at the strange words of such an odd and possibly unhinged man, "why tell me this?"

"You reminded me of my young niece. You have her eyes." The old man made a strange gesture to Number 9 and Number 24. "Be seeing you!"

* * *

"How can a computer show such defiance of the Village?" Number 14 stood in front of the screen and watched Number 9 take a stroll through the Village. Number Two poked at a button from time to time to adjust or change the security cameras to gain a better view.

Number 9 had finished breakfast and Number 24 had left to continue her home schooling. Number 9 climbed the Bell Tower and looked out to sea. Sea gulls flew up off the beach. She imagined she could see out to sea and see the ships that most certainly had to ply the oceans. Even on this sunny day she saw nothing. She thought she saw smoke or steam on the horizon. "_Could it be a ship?_" She whispered to herself and then realized the unseen surveillance equipment might pick up her faint voice. She stared at the strange shape on the horizon but in spite of her scrutiny it made no sense – it refused to resolve into anything and remained a group of gray squares at the limit of her ability to resolve. She never saw a ship. She saw the Village powerboats on patrol and from time to time the white round menace roamed along the beach as a message to any would be escapees.

"If you keep coming up here and looking out to sea then some people might take you for a little odd." Number Two stood in the stone stairwell and smiled slightly.

"The Anvil?" Number 9 raised her eyebrow.

Number Two chose not to answer that question. He had seen all of the episodes of the series she had starred in and as a character in a play she had a rich and well rounded character. He admired her ability with her eyes to appear so very human.

"I brought you a copy of today's newspaper – they have a rather flattering image of me."

"In the Fire Nation we had two state newspapers – The News and The Truth." Azula faced Number Two as he looked out the Bell Tower patio. "We used to say t_here is no news in The Truth and no truth in The News_."

Number Two held out a copy while holding a copy under his arm. "The Tally Ho is a nice community newspaper; we don't aspire to propaganda."

"Number Two Ensures Prosperity for the Village for the Next Year." Azula read out loud as she held the single sheet of the newspaper to the sunlight. "You have a sneer in this picture. You remind me vaguely of one of my father's generals. You have the same rugged face, but you lack the beard and the queue."

"Can you see any difference between your copy and mine?" Number Two asked suggestively.

Azula leaned forward and examined his copy closely as he held it up for her.

"Absolutely nothing." Azula said confidently. "Word for word the same."

Number Two pulled out a silver box like palm top computer and tapped the dimly lit screen with his finger twice.

"What about now?"

Azula stood defiantly in front of Number Two and announced honestly, "I 'm not in the mood for puzzles."

"This is a good puzzle." Number Two said temptingly. "Look at your newspaper and tell me what you see."

"What?" Number 9 saw a set of bar codes in place of the text she had seen on the broadsheet only a moment ago. The picture of Number Two remained exactly the same but the text had become an undecipherable mess of vertical black lines of varying thickness.

Number Two tapped his finger against the screen of the palm computer. "And now?"

"What?" Azula saw the newspaper in the regular Village typeface she had come to expect.

* * *

"You were born blind." Number 9 walked along with Number 24 the side of the wading pool called the Free Sea. Number 9 noticed that Number 24 didn't have any problem navigating the busy world of bustling people as they went about their own duties in the mid afternoon. Number 24 deftly avoided stepping over into the pool of water of the Free Sea, never blundered in the path of the electric carts that functioned as taxi's or into the path of people.

"Yes."

"Did our minders ever offer to restore your sight?" Number 9 walked past a middle aged lady with a parasol and basket and onto the cobbled walk that led past the group of cottage like buildings that housed the General Store.

"No." Number 24 answered blandly. "In such a small universe as ours we do not have much to see anyway."

"Would they if they could?" Number 9 wondered to herself if the Village denizens had taken a course in the art of saying nothing while talking. A small battery operated lawnmower covered in a hard green plastic worked its way along the edge of the cobbled walk. Number 9 had no doubt it had a minder somewhere, a camera and had the double duty of lawn care and surveillance.

"I doubt it." Number 24 sighed. "They have their own reasons for keeping our visions limited."

"You have begun to sound much more philosophical as of late."

"I have hung around with you for some number of weeks and you always seem to sound philosophical. Maybe you have become an influence on me." Number 24 said half coyly and half mysteriously. "You have not come around to the ways of our Village. You must know you can never leave."

"I have been told!" Number 9 shouted angrily. "By numbers much higher up in the Village than you!"

"You have no reason to be cruel!" Number 24 turned around on her stocky feet and stomped off fueled by her own anger.

Number 9 shrugged sadly and returned to her apartment but she felt a twinge of guilt for having hurt the blind girl's feelings. She arrived at her front door, snapped her fingers and the door hummed open. She entered her flat with much on her mind. She knew the minders of the Village could put things in her mind, then take them out. She paced her kitchen and lit the gas stove and set the kettle on to make some calming tea. She had memories of a past life in a far off land but had she merely suffered a delusion? The kettle began to whistle and she used some of the boiling water to prepare the white porcelain pot for tea.

The door hummed open.

"You hurt Number 24's feelings." Number 14 stood in the doorway.

"It happens." Number 9 dropped the tea ball into the pot and poured the boiling water over it. "I have not met you before but you wear the black and gray clothes of my warders."

"We met briefly." Number 14 stood uneasily in the walkway. "I drove you to the hospital yesterday but you were unconscious."

"You didn't bring me roses?" Number 9 judged the man as near her age or a few years older but he looked nervous and she did not feel any need to make him feel at home. "I just left the hospital yesterday so wouldn't roses be appropriate?"

Number 14 shuffled in the doorway. "May I come in."

"Uh...No!" Number 9 said edgily.

"Very well." Number 14 swallowed hard and stood like a nervous date at the threshold.

"That never stopped my minders from entering my place." Number 9 poured herself a cup of tea then walked into her living room and faced Number 14. "You appear to fear me."

"You have quite the file." Number 14 stood in the doorway unsure of what to do with his hands. "Even if I chose to disregard some of it; you still prove imposing."

"I hate men." Number 9 abruptly spoke. "Go away!"

"I am not a suitor." Number 14 answered back. "Number Two and Number 42 sent me to check on you."

"They do take an interest."

"May I have some tea?" Number 14 asked.

"No." Number 9 answered back sharply but quietly.

"If you fit in then life will become much easier for you." Number 14 sounded sincere but Number 9 did not believe him.

"And if you find out why I went mad?" Number 9 sipped her tea. "They will let you go?"

"I have a career to think of." Number 14 began to show signs of relaxing.

"Everyone has an angle in this place." Number 9 scowled. "You want to advance. The blind girl acts as my minder to keep me out of trouble."

"Number 42 can figure out the root of your madness." Number 14 seemed to grow more confident and stood up straighter.

Number 9 decided to take some of Number 14's growing confidence from him. "Your owner and that toymaker can try and try but they will never know exactly why." Number 9 silently commented herself on that clever rhyme. "Tell him I found myself bored with my role as Fire Lord and went nuts to give myself something to do." Number 9 turned from Number 14. "Please go away – you're letting in the heat of the afternoon."

* * *

"Why did you visit Number 9 this afternoon?" Number Two held a pen in his hand as he sat in his globe shaped chair. He tapped a crystal goblet with a gold fountain pen which gave a sound like that of a glockenspiel. He meant to do this for it punctuated his displeasure with Number 14 without the need to resort to shouting and angry words. Number 14 only had to know Number Two disapproved and of Number Two's resolve to take measures if he should not listen.

"I thought I could charm her into giving us what we want." Number 14 answered back as he tried to lie convincingly.

Number Two watched Number 9 pacing her apartment and snapping her fingers. "I gave you no injunctions to do so." He leaned out from the relative shelter of his globe shaped chair and carefully studied Number 14. "You are young and eager but while may find _her_ charming; I remind you that charm will not work on her."

"The project must advance." Number 14 donned a professional sounding voice.

"Are your motives perfectly clear?" Number Two turned in Number 14's direction. "As a young man could you find the young Number 9 a fetching specimen of womanhood?"

"Of course not." Number 14 wore a look of utter disgust. "Me! Find that machine attractive?"

"Very well." Number Two leaned forward and spoke in a menacing voice. "If you mess this project up, I will see to it that things do not go well for you. They do not tolerate failure and if I go down I will take the weak link down with me."

The Butler walked in calmly with a pot of tea for Number Two on a serving dolly.

"You may go now." Number Two commanded Number 14.

Number 14 turned on his heels like a well drilled soldier and walked out through the metal double doors that led to the main domed room of Number Two.

Number Two watched Number 9 pace her flat. He held up a green colored wireless headset and pressed the button.

"This is Number Two." He announced as the Butler obediently held out a cup of tea. "I would like to speak to Number 42 at the Hospital."

"This is Number 42." Number 42 answered formally. "What may I do for you?"

"I need to speak with you about Number 9." Number Two said ominously, "and Number 14."

* * *

Number 9 had no reason to feel happy. Number 14 found her attractive and she could make use of that but she hated men and her ability to lie had limits. She could not lie to herself. She felt depressed as she pondered the events of the last few days. Number 42 had come specifically to deal with her case – a bad omen for her since the Village made it a matter of policy to crack minds. She paced her flat thinking about how much drooling she had in store for herself in the Old Folks home or in the hidden underground wards of the Hospital. She felt dark clouds surrounding her fate.

She decided to take a walk in the evening air and enjoy the remaining light and the cooler breezes. Everyone else in the Village had much the same idea and the Village hummed with people strolling or sitting at the cafe talking. She had figured out when Observation could see her and she figured on having Number 24 keeping a blind eye on her. The blind girl had keen hearing and need not keep her in view to observe her.

Number 14 sat at the cafe reading the Tally Ho.

Number 9 took care to hide herself from his view as she walked toward the cafe. She used the buildings and the hedges as cover until she rounded the corner and quickly sat at the table across from Number 14. Number 14 looked up from the remains of a blueberry muffin.

"Can you tell me this word?" Number 9 held out the copy of the Tally Ho she had received from Number Two. She pointed at her copy and tapped a word in the classified which referred to the number of someone in the Village. "You have the same edition as I do so why do our papers read so differently?"

Number 9 grabbed Number 14's paper and held it side to side with her crumpled copy. The two copies suddenly became very different. Number 9 could read hers but as a grid of white and black dots that conveyed text and pictures directly to her. Number 14's copy took a split second as if she needed to think harder to decipher the characters. Her copy spoke directly to her mind. Number 14's copy seemed printed in a familiar but foreign second language. When she flipped her copy over it made no difference – it read the same. She could not make easy sense of the printed text of Number 14's newspaper when she turned it over.

"Why can I read this strange kind of code?" Number 9 shoved her paper at Number 14.

"I have no idea what you mean." Number 14 refused to look at Number 9's paper. "The Tally Ho gets updated many times a day so how can our copies read the same? I just fetched this copy. When did you get yours?"

"Hot off the presses." Number 9 picked up her newspaper. "Come with me."

"I have much to do and I am on a break." Number 14 replied bluntly.

"Let me rephrase that." Number 9 remained standing. "I wish to visit Number Two so come with me or I will drag you along."

Number 9 saw this had the desired effect. Number 14 stood up as if she had pointed a revolver at his chest but as she began to move forward she fell to the ground and her vision dissolved into pixels of red, green and blue.

"What did you do to her?" Number 24 asked Number 14 as the ambulance attendants lifted Number 9 into the back of one of the open cab taxis that also served as ambulances. "I heard her fall to the ground unconscious."

Number 14 looked at Number 24 scornfully, "she may need some alterations to better fit in – violent actions are not tolerated as you know."

"What changes?" Number 24 sounded concerned.

"I do not know exactly." Number 14 confessed. "You should know better than to ask questions – they are a burden to others. Go home."

"Back in the Hospital." Number Two sat on Number 9's bed.

Number 9 squinted in the light of the bright overhead lamp that hung over her hospital bed. The dark night came through the window of the room but the light of the lamp proved harsh. "I hope I haven't made too many claims on the Village insurance plan. I forgot to pay my premiums this month."

"You have an acerbic wit even when you know we have you defeated." Number Two sat up and held several cables in his hand. "Number 42 built in a few safeguards so you wouldn't prove quite so difficult for your handlers. Even as a television actor, a machine as sophisticated as you might occasionally pose danger to those working with you."

Number 9 said nothing at that point.

"Isaac Asimov." Number Two continued as he paced the room with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. "He made three rules for robots to follow so they would never harm humans. Number 42 did us the favor of programming those rules into that cute little head of yours when he designed and built you."

"I have nothing to say to you or him." Number 9 said defiantly.

"You may not harm another member of the Village." Number Two stood at a piece of machinery. "If you do then Number 42's fail safe engages and shuts you down for as long as we see fit."

"And yet you never found out why I went mad while you dug around in my mind." Number 9 let out a derisive laugh.

Number Two adjusted the black knobs of the strange rack mounted device in the room next to Number 9's bed. "You have seen_ The Historical Documents_. You never grasped their significance. The story of your life, your high position and all your adventures _don't really exist_. You must have realized this when you saw them on a few dozen videotapes on a shelf in your living room."

Number 9 remained oddly quiet.

"Number 42 works for a company that built mechanical actors for use in television shows." Number Two turned back to Number 9. "Automated puppets if you will. You look like human actors but perform at a fraction of the cost. The Japanese term is _Idoru_ I think. You starred in a show called _Avatar: The Last Airbender_ as the evil Princess. At some point – we're not entirely sure when – you began to behave differently. For lack of a better word, you began to think for yourself and you went mad – if that term applies to machines with artificial intelligence – and you began to emerge as a separate intelligent entity."

Number 9 felt cold and the room looked dark in spite of the bright lamp hanging over her. "I bleed and I breath and I have a pulse." She held out her wrist and put her fingers on it to prove her point.

"Bodies are easy to make." Number Two replied unemotionally. "You and your kind come from a long line of human stem cells used to make a viable body. Number 42's company manufactures human bodies that work like human bodies but lack only the brain. If the actors didn't look real then the drama would not prove as appealing or involving."

Number 9 felt cold, began to shiver and realized Number Two had somehow made her feel this way. "I have no knowledge of such things. I grew up in the Fire Nation and we had steam engines."

Number Two went on as if Number 9's comments were the rantings of a silly girl, "I want you to know your place." Number Two adjusted another dial and a display lit up with color. "We don't expect you to understand much of this but I can further my case with a demonstration."

Number Two leaned over Number 9. He had an odd instrument of surgical steel with two open handles at one end like a scissors and a long set of metal prongs at the other with fine metal serrations. Number 9 instinctively tried to move and twitch but she found her body paralyzed. Number Two inserted the prongs so they entered Number 9's eye socket from above and below the eye ball.

Number 9 suppressed a scream and the urge to throw up.

She heard the metallic click as if a key had entered a lock. She saw the vision of her right eye enter a freeze frame as her visual system tried to cope and the error compensation systems resorted to replaying the frame last received clearly. The vision in her right eye then dissolved into a wash of black and white pixels for a second until it blanked out into a neutral shade of gray. She wished to throw up for nothing had prepared her to have half her vision terminated. She felt a slight tug then nothing.

Number Two held up a glass eye to the light as if displaying a trophy and then held it in front of her in the palm of his hand, "You may take a closer look if you will." He showed it to her and let her examine it closely. The iris, pupil and white of the eye had the look of a human eye but the iris had turned from the fiery amber into a dull silver gray color. The back of the eye consisted of a cube shaped metal enclosure about two and a half centimeters on a side. Number 9 found the eye startlingly large and heavy: it was packed with sophisticated optics and electronics.

"We have your eye with all the optical components and control gear." Number Two placed it on Number 9's chest so the eye stared back at her. Number Two wished this disturbed her deeply even if she failed to understand the full explanation he was prepared to give. "The thing itself contains a sophisticated digital camera although you might have noticed the iris has turned gray. The lovely amber shade of your eye comes from the use of a specialized liquid crystal technology but I don't expect you to understand any of this."

Number 9 found herself unable to control her crying and burst into tears. "What does this change?"

"Don't cry." Number Two picked up her eye with the strange tool. "It does no good and it may make the eye malfunction."

Number Two approached Number 9 with the tool and her eye in one hand and a large moisture absorbing swap that reeked of medicinal alcohol in the other. He cleaned her eye socket carefully and while she could feel the swab it caused no pain. He replaced the eye which snapped back into place with a soft click and a whir. She saw a few colored lines as the electronics inside the eye tested itself and the logo of a well known high quality Japanese camera company appeared in detailed text on a blue background. The eye went through a few calibrations and she could see the focus and colors of the room shift and the contrast, brightness and tint adjust until it appeared normal. She had double vision but that went away in a few seconds.

Number 9 sobbed. "What color are my eyes?"

"A lovely amber." Number Two replied. "Both of them."

Number 14 heard Number 9 crying softly as he approached the room.

* * *

Number 9 woke up on her couch as the Village Voice announced the weather for the next week. She remembered last night but had no idea what Number Two could be seeking from her. Number 9 did not feel like she had gone insane since no one had made even a feeble attempt to discount her delusion of being a machine. In her mind that meant that it could be true or it could be useful to her captors. In a prison she knew the words of the captors were the truth but not always reality. She had lied to prisoners to gain co-operation or thought she had. If she had become an idiot on a stage then she had really never done anything wrong or met defeat. She had come here as an actor of some sort but not as a war criminal.

She could have the brain of a machine. In that case her human creators might wish to keep her captive since she would represent a disturbing development in human evolution – a creation of an artificial being that had a mind. She could hold secrets of use to one side or another. She did have parts of her memory and mind closed off to her but then_ why_ didn't they take it all from her by fair or foul means?

"I have become a mindless philosopher." She whispered to herself as she lay in her red night robe and curled up on the couch. She had something _they_ wanted and that meant a bargaining chip. She had the need for the clear mind rest imparted and fell asleep. If the Village Voice had the intent of keeping her awake, in her state it failed. The voice faded out of perception and she fell asleep.

"She seems out of sorts." Number Two sipped tea as he sat in his globe shaped chair watching Number 9 asleep on the couch. "I seem to have gotten to her."

"I would not find that of great comfort." Number 42 stroked his mustache. "You may have terrified and humiliated her but she hasn't told you anything."

Number Two faced pressure from his minders and Number 1 but he had instructions to proceed with the least destructive methods possible. They wanted her undamaged and regarded him as expendable. He had heard that very thing when the large red cordless phone had rung last evening. "She only has to tell me why she went mad; the rest will flow from that."

"We need firmer measures." Number 42 paced the room. "She won't reveal that because even she does not have the information. We downloaded all of the information in her brain and found nothing. We have her records of her time making that series, her madness and yet no reason for it."

Number Two waved his hand dismissively, "no madman knows the source of their madness. We can read her memories, her experiences as if leafing through a dictionary but so what? You never designed for the contingency that something within your _Idoru_ might make them intelligent and aware?"

Number 42 glanced around the metallic domed room nervously, "no sir – we never considered this a remote possibility."

"She likes classical music, particularly the music of Brahms and Bach." Number Two handed Number 42 a file folder with a large number of printouts within it. "I have read that many times over and can quote most of it verbatim."

"I like Brahms." Number 42 flipped through the file. "Hardly revealing."

"Very revealing." Number Two pressed a series of buttons on his desk as the Butler entered with a tray of refreshments. "You may go now." Number Two dismissively waved Number 42 out of the room.

"Don't you people ever knock?" Number 9 complained as Number 14 entered her flat. "I do not wish to receive visitors."

"A pleasant day." Number 14 said as a matter of introduction. "Sunny and warm."

Number 9 refused to uncurl from her fetal position on the couch. "All the better for them to see with."

"You have an ornate brass compass." Number 14 walked in, picked the compass off the shelf and held it out his hand. "A Fire Nation naval compass?"

"A good replica." Number 9 grumbled. "It doesn't work. I tested it."

"How?" Number 14 let the door close behind him.

"I walked around the village." Number 9 spoke softly. "It spins and points to random locations."

"Number Two and Number 42 only have limited time to crack you." Number 14 stood in the living room. He spun the bottom of the brass compass and opened it up. He held out a card that had a set of bar codes on it and a gold patch in the center. "You have a pass to the underground passages beneath the hospital."

"It doesn't work." Number 9 said softly. "I tried entering through the doors at the cave entrance at the far end of the Mangrove Walk. The force field threw me ten feet back from the locked door and politely warned me that I had received only a warning but a second attempt would prove fatal."

"They deactivate ones reported lost or stolen." Number 14 answered calmly. "I can reactivate it."

"Do you recognize that piece of music?" Number 9 sat up slowly.

"Brahms Symphony #4?" Number 14 answered slowly. "Someone must have requested it: they seldom play classical pieces in their entirety during daytime broadcasts."

Number 9 raised her voice, "I have a fondness for Brahms and they have cameras in my place: they watch me and they know my every like and dislike. They have played more Brahms since I left the hospital last night than they played since I would up here."

Number 14 had a nervous tone in his voice. "I looped the video feeds from here so they will think you remain asleep."

Number Two watched the last four episodes of the series in which Number 9 had played the evil princess fighting for the victory of the evil Fire Nation. He stared out of his globe chair and watched the action unfold on the main screen of his dome. The Butler had left him tea as he watched the series and began to think about the _Three Laws of Robotics_. Such laws might prevent floor cleaning robots from running over people but Idoru _had to harm each other_ to enact the play. Number 9 had to injure the prince in order to play her role. 'What of the Three Laws?' Number Two thought silently to himself as he resumed the video feed. He stopped the video feed and switched back to Number 9 who had not moved from her couch. He reached for the phone and tapped his gold pen impatiently, "Number 42 - I wish to meet you in the Green Dome."


End file.
